"arks" poems
1473
We talked with each other about each other
Though neither of us spoke—
We were listening to the seconds’ Races
And the Hoofs of the Clock—
Pausing in Front of our Palsied Faces
Time compassion took—
Arks of Reprieve he offered to us—
Ararats—we took—
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Take me with you to your Atlantis
Where hues of blue glisten in noons
For eternity we embrace in its promise
Are days of sober in crystallic bliss
Are nights of glacial comfort under mystic lunes
Take me with you to your Atlantis
Wash me into a tender kiss
Too soft to be witnessed but the full moons
For eternity we embrace in its promise
Beyond boundaries of mortality at this
ocean, through the skies and dunes
Take me with you to your Atlantis
Volumes and arks fill up the abyss
with painted tales of Atlantic ruins
For eternity we embrace in its promise
When love dreamily left only to reminisce
as the ink of Plato seeped in tunes
Take me with you to your Atlantis
For eternity we embrace in its promise
Apr 18, 2022
Apr 18, 2022 at 2:54 PM UTC
DEFINITION OF *****
I question your gimmick
Lame limericks
Their cryptic
More mystic
Unrealistic
Ya ****** it
On chronic
Contagious like the bubonic
Hooked hydroponics
Pathetically neurotic
So drop it
your **** ain't ****
Just tragically prosthetic
Prophetical ********
You think that u know ****
You blow it
Thats classic.
CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME ****
MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
YOU SO REFINED AS A *****
Its 101 basic
I didn't quit this
You lost it
Worth only Drunken kisses
I'm pretty when you chase it
Your too shallow to accept it
Together we're right
But my body ain't tight
To ur likes
its your ****
That's a *****
Only looks for them tricks
Your dellusionally idiotic
To think that ya got it
When trix are for kids
Your games hit and miss
Happily ever afters not bliss
First loves kiss is just a playlist
CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME ****
MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
YOU SO REFINED AS A *****
You Can't find love in this mess
Be a girl wear a dress
Listen more talk less
Don't change who you are
Just your flesh
Tell the truth is said to me
Love was free for the taking
Or so I believed
Your lies used as feed
But your pet I am not
Yeah I guess you forgot
What yo ma shoulda taught
That one shots all life's got
CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME ****
MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
YOU SO REFINED AS A *****
The good bits stole away
By this crap game you play
All day, you just sway
On your way
Thinking your owed
By some ****** up code
But your method or mode
Is about to explode
Like mace
In your face
With no trace
Your erased
You ain't even today
Your the past, Yesterday
Can't change that
My ma used to say
Just look for tomorrow
in your ARKs of today
CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME
****
YOU MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
THATS WHY YOU'LL ALWAYS BE *****
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
Consider a dandelion
Consider a mountain peak
Consider the ripples from a single drop or beat
Consider a star explosion
Consider space and blackhole son
Consider even suns and moons
are satellites of a greater U vision
To father is to reach a view that stretches far beyond
What you ever thought you could ever do
The highest bell rung
To father is to find what's true
fill the gap and know what is out
of ones control too
To father is to make a splash and as you fade to the depths unknown grave
the waves you made
are all that's left to carry on infinitely
To father is to be okay burning up yourself as you light the way
holding glass minerals gas and stone
without knowing exactly how or where the spinning turned a house to a home
Just knowing that when you reach
the top or your mass collapse drops
it could break the very world you create and devistate
the very plans woven to levitate
SEW
Fathers Mediate the space between
The waves and dreams
Winds and streams
Pulling your seeds apart
Stack mass and cash
to pay attention to their heART
Spinning webs of redemption
Stitching wounds building arks
So as I grasp the view
of the present bestowed and
I shiver in the vast unknown
but no matter beating rain
or interstellar hurricane
The futures big enough for my echo to be heard again and again.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 10:13 PM UTC
The pendulum swings its wide arch, cutting through the air with threatening strokes.
Its sharp blade is ever present and always moving closer in arks of fear.
The pit lies below in dark, endless depths of nothingness.
Its cry is one of forever and silence.
I am in between, and I must choose between the sharp abrasions of the ever threatening pendulum, or the hollow death of the pit.
Each moment the pendulum sweeps closer, and I dodge it, but not before I have felt the hair shaved from my arms or the air stir from its movement.
And I am relieved and safe for a while until another choice must be made, and the pendulum moves another notch closer.
The pit is always waiting. I have poked my head inside, but have never wholly ventured into its permanence. The pit is always the last escape and awaits if the pendulum cuts too deep.
Each time I must decide. “Will it be the pit or will it be the pendulum?”
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
Before the thaw, my feet will be rooted
Into this nation’s primordial freeze
My muscles and bones will be acquainted with malaise
The sun’s altruism will be refuted
Before the thaw, I will struggle to find consciousness
The frost will leak through the bedroom window
And don the facade of a blanket
The door will prove to be bottomless
Possibilities will seem unachievable
The brain will itch for what it can not have
Buses will limp through congestion
And the blizzards may feast on the feeble
You may want to write of your misery
But your automation will halt in cataclysm
Because someone held a door open
For the gust that billows bitterly
Gastric emissions will become tangible
As smouldering wastes contrast against the sky with rancour
The wispy whites, marginalized into *****
And the world remains infallible
I will lack the tools of incision
To enact my life’s revisions
I will weep for my unguided millions
While I saunter into oblivion
After the thaw, I will smile
My expatriate soul will run in the whimsical wind
Of the morning dayspring that will march unto me
I will stand over a kingdom of honey-filled tiles
After the thaw, the arks will converge
Into the straits of the Bermudian Sea and the
Elusive Caspian Forest, where I will learn to love again
While bidding farewell to winter’s dirge
In the waking world, I will ***** a limestone castle
Where entropy will rule and the mind’s domain
Is left susceptible to perennial reverence
The sea, coloured true, nesting a fairgrounds vessel
In this Great Revision, gargantuan skyways
Will show the world how exiguous we are
That we must not wait for exodus to come
Should we fear to waste away
Into icebergs
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
Ye have been fresh and green,
Ye have been fill’d with flowers,
And ye the walks have been
Where maids have spent their hours.
You have beheld how they
With wicker arks did come
To kiss and bear away
The richer cowslips home.
You’ve heard them sweetly sing,
And seen them in a round:
Each ****** like a spring,
With honeysuckles crown’d.
But now we see none here
Whose silv’ry feet did tread
And with dishevell’d hair
Adorn’d this smoother mead.
Like unthrifts, having spent
Your stock and needy grown,
You’re left here to lament
Your poor estates, alone.
2.1k
We drown in petty sorrows.
Wish for floods-
For rain
To wash away all our iniquities.
Wash our robes white,
Our hands clean
Of any thistles or weeds that
Cling to our fingertips.
We cry:
Salt-stained
Tears
Begging for some kind of
Materialistic reprieve
For all the
Very hard work
We've done.
God called us to build arks.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 8:31 AM UTC
A walk through the parks
A dog barks
Its teeth as sharp as sharks
'That's not a good rhyme' my brother remarks
: Then how would you fix it?
'You're not a good poet, you must admit'
: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
'You're not smarter, even if you are older'
I hit him lightly on the shoulder
'Ow, that felt like a boulder'
: Back to the rhyme
'All in due time,'
'My talents are all truly sublime'
: Ya, like the times you got your hair stuck in slime
'That was no crime'
'So, A dog barks, and gets in one of those arks'
: Arks? as in the boat?
'Yup, the ones that float'
My brother brays like a goat
: I'll take note
: If you stop acting like a goat
Mar 26, 2021
Mar 26, 2021 at 8:13 AM UTC
Deluge tears, the storm clouds engulfing the wide world,
none to steady the canoe on the Galilee;
This the dust-path yoked to the burden of our deed,
beaten for teaching love, up the hill of penitence:
for here we traded the Spirit for passing gain,
calumny for mercy, who showed us the mirror
bearing witness, the wind heaving in the silence
we handed him over to the lash and the crucifix,
Yet, inscrutable this love for an ungrateful world
that parts the seas, and calls to life our faith dead,
pouring down, a heavenly stream though undeserved
carrying us across in arks and covenants
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC
The all faith popes were flaming atheists,
all two thousand leagues of stacked sea,
sending out their **** hole flotillas
on carillon arks stacked ten tiers deep with homing doves,
tithe teething continents of dithering dullards,
the poor mouthed succulent souls
that have so, so
over crowded a once peaceful heaven
to render this one blue ball a hell on earth.
Jan 10, 2011
Jan 10, 2011 at 10:23 PM UTC
Heels harder than steel
Sharper still
In his heart
Smooth arks
Curves looping
Strong desires
Cutting loose
Weak restraints
Through frail defenses
His achilles heel
A separate entity
Embodied in the shape
Of a fallen angel
Insatiably inviting
The arrows of Apollo
Choosing carefully
Her Paris-es
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 5:04 AM UTC
Cool cold breeze encapsulates my being with the caress of poisoned thoughts
To look beyond your beauty would be sin of the most potent kind
Breath taking, stunning, a masterpiece torn from the scrapbook of angels
Fornication from devils is your true colour, but I worship you.
Hollow are my own thoughts as my dreams are caught between your spell
Crippled to a motionless statue, naked before you do I stand?
Spontaneous, my ****** urges control my rational thoughts, dignity is lost.
Your cool kiss entices my moans of pleasure, as I beg for more.
Tongue so smooth my explosion of man hood can no longer be suppressed.
My heart beats to the sweet scent of your warm breath, the nakedness of skin.
Trapped by your womanly love, my head arks back.
Sinking the fangs that control many lives, they steal my veins like ivory needles.
Dizzy of lust, weak of life’s recourses, I fade to darkness.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 11:23 AM UTC
They lie dead
scuttled ships
marauders no more
merely firewood
for the pitch black flames
They lie prone
paralyzed senses
forces no longer
only drops
from puddles of ****** mutiny
Captains of real estate
they settled on new worlds
from old buildings
three arks on a maiden voyage:
the Niña
the Pinta
and the Sandinista
Release the collective animal
ruling in symphony
with those heavy waters
now a graveyard
Cleansed mind
falling reign
their kingdom come and go
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 9:13 PM UTC
Whenever, whenever, when in May,
There is a day with nothing to do;
Save go through the looking glass
And trespass on hours past.
May they last forever.
Through the abyss on a lightning arc
Darkly in your mind.
Find whatever moments you choose
And lose them to your pride.
Yet arks of mine are at your side.
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 12:17 PM UTC
The charlatans are back again
With bombs to drop from ballpoint pens
Jerusalem Leviathans
Since lions ate the Zion movement
Now Big Ben is crumbling
And mumbling some skittish Yiddish
To some pig anti-Semitic
Who the critics just diminish as dominions of the British who still commonwealth the nations with their Exxon Mobil stations
While the colonies are sick and medicated on these rations, pullin’ racist colored race cards when the kingdoms of creation are the real abominations that the oligarchs of Noah’s arks still preach to seal your fate in
Coffer coffins of the status quotient tokenism banquet, stuffin’ off shore banks with patients who are drowning in malaises
As the taxing burden raises for the barely makin’ raisins in the sun to have some fun go fundin’ Contras cappin’ convents full o’ nuns, don’t get it twisted sister act, I’m coming strapped with Warsaw Pact because the cops be cappin’ rappers when they packin’ artifact on all the fiction superstition
Burning question abolition
Voodoo economic prison cells
Still selling us religions
Of democracy and freedoms makin’ edens
In the middle eastern promise lands
Just broken dreams and neverlands
Cuz no mans makes a stand or plan
To ban these ku klux clan Greenspans
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 2:33 PM UTC
i am a bible of verses
a scripture of curses
how many sins can you find
staining my skin
i bleed paperthin and only when i take the time
to drip instead of flood
but i suppose we can't all build arks to save ourselves
from drowning unexpectedly
on a trip to tennessee i learned what it means to tell a girl
how i feel and not care what the
reply would be
it turned out better than i had hoped and maybe it was the unexpected
that caused me to stay afloat
but i've got poison in my veins
a river of remains from every last person that's tried to save me
she got lucky
caught herself just before the cliff gave way
saved herself from the damage i keep hidden within
she got out
alive
so why do i feel so horribly convinced that i'm going to die
why do i feel so horribly unsatisfied
i'm too terrified to even touch her
know that my hands have become live wires set to shock
something fatal
i'm
something fatal
and now that i've got empty palms and a bleeding heart
i understand what it means to fall apart
i paint myself black and blue
terrified of fading translucent pale
terrified that if i don't keep the colors in my skin
if i don't remind myself how to bruise
i'll disappear
into the waiting arms of my ribcage
never has my body felt more like a prison
than when it keeps me pushing
at all the wrong bars
keeps me rushing
at all the wrong guards
i'm breaking myself in two
thousand pieces of mismatched shards of glass
that were never meant to be collected into something beautiful
i'm the leftover scraps
of finished pieces and i guess maybe the pieces that are missing
are the ones i allowed her to keep
she's gorgeous in her entirety
so maybe it's worth
this feeling of shattering
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
We never knew Earth. We had been told stories about it and our schools tell us we are from there. 100,000 years ago we left Earth. From what we are told we left because the planet could no longer sustain life. The great star arks were built so that we could leave for the stars in search of a new home.
Earth had pretty much been long forgotten. That is until someone decided to look toward it in the sky one night. It now shined sapphire blue again. A beautiful pale blue dot seem to be calling us back home. One star ark will leave for Earth in 2 years. I have signed on to be one of its passengers. To see where we came from.
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 11:26 AM UTC
Hold the tired hands suppressed by eons
calloused by the tears of generational fears
carousel your caress in resonated templed arks
harks of walks, ever fervent, reverenced and etched
Tender love from ancient ambient scented rocks
metamorphic withered limestones in evolvement
sedimentary chains of life, tagging in ageless dreams
of resurrections from the eye of the untorn needle
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 7:21 PM UTC
It was just a question between kids, or maybe
between a monkey and a tortoise; one who
liked to climb trees; the other more pleased
with taking his time
How did things start; the question waffed
by dry air, watched by the hands that set it
in motion coming to rest as a most fortunate
tenant on the back of the pitching shell
If it was an explosion maybe that’s why we
cannot live delicately though butterflies
and falling leaves pass through this life; even
as a mirage; owning their resistance to death
as a dream owns our fears
It must be like that; we live like animals;
reacting to forces that we cannot control
or understand; spreading our minds apart
like buildings scattered by what another
man described as victory
Though reason remains within us the decisions
we make cannot stick to walls that refuse to
stand still while time records every doubt
as to the meaning of islands and arks
But why would we blow something up to
create something new unless what was
to come was penance for horrors that a
youthful God witnessed in his progeny;
only the cross knows why
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
Lost on a walk that started in the park with sunshine, glasses of wine and good times. But as it does then it got dark and all I had was a spark to light my way. So persistent I tried but couldn't find my way so I closed my eyes and pondered the my path. Still my mind didn't know so I chose to let go and started to think with my soul. It was then I felt my fire burning from inside sending arks of synapses rebuild the body mined and soul. Could it be sometimes the freedom of letting go is what lets us be whole
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 6:08 PM UTC
We live among kings and sorcerers and plasmic sonnets
and serpent-lined oceans and speed-freaking comets
breaking left around untapped worlds of ether
and crested hawks and tales of Caesar
and acetylene-soaked music (and the guitarist drops a match)
and pharaohs and arks and Grecian tracts
and the words of Faulkner and pianos
and gilded lilies heaving like sopranos
and foamy, crashing sunsets and Davis’ “Kind of Blue”…
Why in hell would I care for the evening news?
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 4:44 PM UTC
The great flood had begun;
Replacing the land with a waterworld dotted with mountain top islands;
Arks of mammalian preservation.
It was there I stood as the moon fell.
Night had never been so bright;
Luna inching ever closer;
Craters becoming more and more visible;
Resolution broadcasting high definition;
I raised my hands to the sky;
Reaching out to catch the massive satellite;
First contact came as my hands bore down;
Soft silt of the gray quality puffed;
My arms and legs began to bend;
The weight so tremendous that the effort shook my body;
Hers as well;
My left knee struck the land;
Terra redoubling my efforts;
Heaving with all my might I shrugged;
Sending the moon back towards the heavens;
I watched silently;
Luna was returned to her orbit;
The flood began to dissipate as tidal forces resumed;
Leaving me alone;
Hands to the sky on one knee;
Looking down at the world;
From the mountain of Everest.
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 9:45 AM UTC